Solidarity
by IlluminationImpact
Summary: After Melancholy Hill. Murdoc deals with Noodles death. Wow I cannot write summaries. Rated T for swearing. Read my garbage. Rating actually doesn't have get changed but, I mean, as always be warned.
1. Underwater prison

**Hey kids. Haven't written anything in a while huh? Yes, it's been a long time. Anyway here's a little something I wrote in the middle of the night. Just so you know I don't own Gorrillaz or any of the characters or so on or so forth. **

**Enjoy.**

_Illumination _

Stuart Pot.

That's your real name.

But nowadays you're known as 2-D.

So, you are 2-D.

Yes.

Your name is 2-D and you are fucking terrified.

For starters the lighting in this room is horrible, and it's always cold, and it makes you want to cry. But that's not why you cry.

Only one of your friends is here with you but something is really wrong with him. Is that why you cry? Can't remember.

You likely cry because there is a monster outside your window and it won't stop looking at you, with glinting black stones pushed into the course blue flesh of its face and the unlimited teeth that reveal themselves periodically as the creature remains suspended in underwater infinity. It's always around, day and night and you think, holy shit doesn't it have to eat?

But you are the only thing that the blue whale is interested in. It makes everything seem all the more unnatural.

As for that friend of yours, he isn't himself. Something is wrong and that really scares you.

Hours after you arrive he comes in, and he has this odd and crooked grin on his face as he looks at you. He seems excited about something.

You forget yourself and run to him, grab his arms and stammer uncontrollably, half relieved that you aren't alone down here, that there is someone here you know.

Truth is you don't know him.

"Mudz!" You begin. " Bloody 'ell Mudz where'm I...Where ah we? God, d-do you see it? Th'whale, th' bloody fucken' whale..." You actually start to cry at this point, but you soon you go silent because Murdoc doesn't decide to hit you for "being such a damn crybaby". He lets you cry. You search his face. Still smiling. What was going on?

"Ay, Dents..." He says, and as he puts his hands on your shoulders you release your grip on his. His eyes are completely vacant. Something. Something is wrong.

"Mmm...M-Mur...doc?" It's a quiet and high pitched voice that you use because you are getting ready to cry again.

Still smiling. There is nothing in his eyes.

" Ay...We're gon' make music 'gen...Yeh, gon' make music, juss like old times, 'member?" His grip on your shoulders tightens and he starts to shake them and he is really, really scaring you now. "'Member 2-D? 'Member when everything was good and we made music? I brought ya here so we could do it all again!"

Laughing, smiling, long fingernails piercing you. Empty fucking eyes, empty fucking eyes.

You writhe away from this stranger. "N-no!" Your hands reach for your matted hair and you want to scream. Everything is wrong. "Mudz, no, I, I don' wan' th's, I, I wanna go 'ome... "

His smile broadens. "You are home."

No. No. No. **No. No. NO. NO. NO. NO**. **DON'T.** **DON'T FUCKING SAY THAT. YOU BASTARD. HIT ME, CALL ME FACEACHE, AND LET ME KNOW THAT YOU HAVEN'T COMPLETELY LOST YOUR FUCKING HEAD.**

"Please..."

Your cries are cut short. There is a young woman standing behind Murdoc and you think you know her. She looks like Noodle, but you remember her as the woman who accompanied you and Murdoc on your way here. The one who carried guns and got shot in the head only to expel sparks and the horrid sound of scraping metal as opposed to human blood.

"Who..." You had been meaning to ask. "Who is she..?"

Trembling hands point and he turns to look as though he didn't already know who'd be there. "Why, 'ats Noodle!"

You look him dead in the face. "No."

Murdoc doesn't seem to hear you as he motions for the woman to come closer. She marches up to him and stands rigidly at his side, expressionless, eyes hidden by locks of violet hair. You watch as Murdoc stares at her admiringly for a moment before you ask:

"Where's Russ?"

He doesn't look at you. "Dunno really. Bloke took off somewhere, 'aven't heard from 'im. But thass all fine cos I've got a machine that'll do all the percussion we need, an' frankly I think it does better, even."

You're hardly breathing. You are so afraid.

"An'…" There's silence. "An' Noodle? Where's she?"

Murdoc's gaze is no longer focused on the woman next to him, his eyes seeming to have fogged over completely. "Wot d'you mean? She's right -"

"Murdoc. No."

He moves his head so slowly it looks like it must hurt. He looks directly at you and his now thin smile is quivering. His eyes are wide and strained. He opens his mouth and only a harsh whisper can be heard:

"She's dead."

As though the strange woman had fired her gun, you hear a deafening silence. Light, transparent ringing in your head. You don't say anything but Murdoc can see that you need to be told more.

"Her island went down, damn sky pirates did it. I tried to recover her body but, y'know."

The ringing in your head is now a sharp whine sounding from within your throat and yes, those are tears.

"But, ah, I was able to collect a skin and hair sample, and uh," He gestured to the woman, to the _thing_ that stood beside him. "Made this new Noodle. Real, real fine guitar playah, and, y'know, good with a gun."

You are staring at his shoes and don't bother with the tears on your face. You let them fall as you look back up at Murdoc. He shifts uncomfortably and does not meet your eyes, but you aren't worried about that. To feel what you are feeling, and to say what you are about to say, it seems totally justified because this man is a stranger to you now.

"You're sick."

Getting hit was maybe the best thing you felt all day. No, before he wouldn't have normally punched you in the teeth like he did just then, but it was better than nothing as you are starved for familiarity. But when you rear your head back up, fingers pressed to your bleeding mouth, what you see is worse than a stranger. What you see is someone you know at their worst.

Murdoc did not cry. It simply never happened and you weren't even sure if he was capable of it, but as you look at him now there are tears in his eyes and he is breathing heavily. How dare you, he seemed to say. How fucking dare you.

He turns around, no more words are left, and he heads towards the door, his cyborg creation following closely. No more words. They leave and the door shuts you in solidarity. How fucking dare you.


	2. Creation

**Hey, second chapter. Wrote this during class. Before we go I just want to say to my fellow writers, thank you for your wonderful contributions. I love the second-person perspective that a lot of people use, it just fits this so well, all of you are just, aah, SO GREAT. Also, turns out Faceache is a legitimate insult? I always thought it was a term originally coined by the Gorrilaz cannon/ fandom? More you know. Alright I'm done now. **

_Illumination _

The kid is just like a dog, you swear. It took him a while, but he got used to his surroundings and you were able to trust him enough to let him out of his room. He was grateful for that.

"'Ts ackshee nice up heah, Mudz. Real...real pretty atside, be'er when 'ts 'bove th'wa'er."

He was always at the windows, looking out at the blue water and painted shores. The white sunlight bleached his face through circular panes of thick glass, and the dullard looked kind of happy. You'd find him on the windowsill, the thin stack of his body toppled slightly as he dozed in the afternoon sun. You didn't allow him to go outside.  
If you're lucky, then he'd sleep all day, and you can have Noodle rouse him and take him downstairs while he's still half asleep. Not the real Noodle, of course. You're talking about the girl you created. But that's beside the point.  
The point is, when he sleeps all day it means he had been awake all night. Which is normal, he always did that back at Kong, so why, then, do you feel guilty? Was it because sometimes you'd come to the ground floor and hear him crying? You shouldn't feel bad, you had never felt bad before. This isn't your fault, but...Yes, yes it is your fault. It's always been your fault, all the bad things happen because of you. But that doesn't explain why you feel. So. Damn. Guilty.  
Maybe because, for the first time, someone has paid for your recklessness with their life. And if it had been anyone else, then you would have tried to forget. Unsuccessfully, maybe, but you would've tried nonetheless. This, however. This had begun as an unhealthy addiction, and it had to end as such. You tried to replace her. You couldn't just let her go.

You remember when she was finished, all programming had been set in place, and you stood waiting as a human figure walked unsteadily towards you. The girl had wires pushed into her skin, tethered to her back, strung up her legs and sewn into her otherwise beautiful face. You built her out of memory and you thought you had done a pretty good job, if you do say so yourself. The problem, as you looked at her then, was the wires.  
You remember approaching the girl you made, lowering yourself to your knees and beginning, gently at first, to disconnect her from the surrounding machines. You started with her face, then began to move more quickly as you reached for her arms and started to pluck, yank, and rip electric snakes off of the girl that you made. You tore the ugliness off of her, bore up the heavy black threads and tossed them off until finally, finally, you revealed the girl you thought you'd never see again. You hugged her, because you thought she had been gone forever, and, Satan, you almost cried. You wish you held her longer.

When you pulled back, holding her shoulders, she looked at you, expressionless at first, and something happened. Her face twisted, a great, deep-set grin opened up like a fissure in the earth, and long, straight rows of pure white teeth gleamed at you, while her unnatural, glowing jade eyes sharpened as she reflected back all your sickness that you had put into her.  
It was made clear then that this was not the girl you knew.  
This was the girl you created.


	3. Broken

**Holy shit! Third chapter! Is this gonna be, like, a regular thing? WOW. Also, if you hadn't noticed, the chapters alternate between 2-D's perspective and Murdoc's. Murdoc's story is told in past tense while 2-D's is in present tense except when he's going through a memory just like in this chapter. Sorry for all this nonsense but hey I could use the practice. Let's go.**

_Illumination _

You actually have a memory of how you think it first started. Way back, back at Kong, you were outside smoking. The cool night air felt nice to you, providing a natural kind of numbness and partially alleviating the pain in your skull. You thought about nothing.

A noise behind you caught your interest and you turned your head. You saw Murdoc, coming around the side of the Studio, stumbling, hand pressed to his face, bleeding. Bleeding? Sometimes you forgot he could do that. It was a rare sight.

"Muds?" You called. No answer, but he hesitated, indicating he heard you. You started to get worried as he came within view and you could see that someone had really kicked the shit out of him. You turned to face him, but from inside you heard a door slam and furious footsteps follow. You glanced through one of the old windows and whispered: "Russel?"

Your attention gets pulled and Murdoc began to walk past you, but you came back and looked at him again.

"Wha' 'appened?"

Murdoc growls a reply, "Nothin'", like you had expected anything else.

_Really, should I be digging into this? _ You thought. But yes, yes you should, and in hindsight you should've dug deeper.

"'Appened to y'face?"

Silence. He didn't throw any insult, didn't tell you to shut it, he just continued in an uneven gait towards his Winnie.

You are 2-D and you don't do much thinking, but you had an idea of what might have happened.

A small sigh and gathering of courage.

"Wha' ah y'doin'?"

"Ay callin' a night." Was his reply. His immediate reply. He knew what you meant.

You could hear crickets fill the silence as the night formed the space between you and the bassist.

You remembered one of those nights, some odd weeks ago, when you would be roaming around at night you found him standing motionless in one of the hallways, staring vacantly at the door to Noodle's room. You asked him the same thing then.

_Wha' 'ah y'doin'?_

Now he knew what you meant.

What has he gotten himself into?

"Ih' can't...Y'can't..." You tried. "Y'need t'stop..."

Murdoc was suddenly close, covering the ground between the two of you in a matter of seconds and the space had been broken. Blood and bruises mixed with that kind of absolute hatred and fury made for a horrifying complexion. With one hand he reached out and seized your throat, lifted you, slammed your head against the wall of the studio. You could not breathe.

"Ewe do not tell me wot to do." His crooked teeth were stained with blood.

Your thin, flat fingernails dragged over his wrist with one hand while you desperately pried at his fingers with the other, trying to separate his grip from your neck. You could not fucking breathe.

Moments passed and there was only silence. For a cold second you had a fear of dying. Then he released you, and you fell to the ground, elbows scraping against the wall. You coughed and rubbed your neck, mildly amazed that your throat was still intact. You looked up, squinting through your blurred vision. Murdoc is not looking down at you, but looking straight ahead as though you were still standing. Both arms were now limp and he was expressionless. His mouth hung slightly open. You heard him whisper:

"Just don' understand...Wots so wrong..."

Now it was your turn to remain quiet as he turned slowly, and walked off. Not another word. No explanation, but you didn't really need one. An apology, though, as always, would've been nice. But it was too late then. The space had been broken.

You are 2-D and you are looking back on it now, considering this idea of how it might have started, and you realize you should've tried to fix it. If you had helped your friend when this had all started, then maybe you wouldn't be here now, waiting for it to end.


	4. Understanding

**Holy shit! Long chapter! _Late_ upload? Unbelievable. Uh, also, as for the rating I don't technically have to change it because this doesn't include any adult themes (Disadvantage of being ace, can't write lemons) but I mean there's swearing and violence so here's just a little warning for you, if abuse isn't your thing then maybe reconsider reading this. **

**For those of you sticking around then let's get on with it.**

_Illumination_

No, you can't really pinpoint when exactly it started, nor can you really explain how, but you can sure as hell clear up what it really is. First, by Russel's definition, it was sick and wrong and as far as he was concerned you were one fucked up guy. By 2-D's definition it was a weird and dangerous obsession that he didn't understand, which was no surprise really, that doltz didn't understand much of anything.

What was it really? To you, it was a fascination, a fondness that you had developed for your fellow musician. You just didn't get what was so wrong with it; you would've waited until she was at least eighteen before you did anything anyway. You just...Liked her. You never liked anyone. So why, again was it so wrong? Why couldn't you just like her and be happy?

Probably because, when she was a child, you hated her. You were the tired, grumpy old drunk who complained when she laughed too loud, and you were by far the least tolerant of Noodle's childhood antics. But no, no one thought anything of it because it was just you being intolerant of everything. It was fine; nothing to be concerned about up until you reached your breaking point.

You were hung over to begin with, and when you walked into the kitchen that evening there was broken glass scattered over the floor, burning with the scarlet light from the windows, and the ten year-old guitarist sat cross-legged in the middle of it all. Broken shards of glass were stuck into her feet, and a few bloodied pieces lay to the sides. A now empty cupboard was missing its door, which had been torn off the hinges and was leaning against the counter. You were able to assume that the kid had been trying to reach a glass and the cupboard had given way, letting her fall along with whatever she had tried to grab hold of and then some. You must have been outside when it happened, because you hadn't heard the crash. Was anyone else around? How come no one was dealing with this?

"Wot...the fuck..." You began as you entered, and Noodle looked up at you. There weren't any tears on her face. "Wot did ewe do?"

No answer. She looked down at her lap, one hand glazing over her injured feet. You started to get angry.

"Oi! Aye asked ewe a question!" She flinched at the volume of your voice, but still made no reply and you walked around the broken glass so you stood just before the child, looming over her. "Wots a'matter, forgot how t'speak?"

Then she said something, very quietly.

"Wot..." You grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. She winced. "Wot did ewe juss say?" You leaned in close and shouted in her face, and suddenly she snapped up and she met your glare with her own kind of hatred.

"Shut up!"

Words she likely learned from you. You lost it then. That was your breaking point.

You wish you hadn't been wearing a ring. A metal cross that matched your necklace, it left a horrible mark. As far as you remember she took the hit in silence, and remained silent as she carefully craned her neck back from one side. Only now were there tears on her face. A bruise was forming around her left eye and your ring had left a strawberry slash across her cheek, a sideways cross scorched into her skin. Her face was contorted, mouth curled, bottom lip quivering, and shining eyes that now asked you all the questions.

How could you?  
A shaking gasp accounted for some kind of terrified sob as thick tears ran down her face, gliding over her wound and mixing with blood. Noodle made some small noise of complete mortification, turned and fled, ignoring the glass in her feet. Your arm was still raised to one side, and only once she was gone did you let it fall. You stood there for a few more moments as you asked yourself what you had done. But you knew the answer to that one; you knew damn well what you did.  
You had gone too far.

What happened immediately after was not even close to the worst part of the aftermath. When Russel found her, he made a point of beating you within an inch of your worthless life. Then you were forced to sit with your shoulders hunched and eyes focused on the wall as he yelled at you for a straight hour, threatening to kill you, or worse, kick you out of the band. He said something to the effect of you being a horrible person, and "wha' kind've bastard hits a li'le girl?" Sick. Done with your bullshit. What were you and thinking? All your fault.  
Yeah, things like that.  
2-D wouldn't even look at you for about a week, and didn't talk normally to you again for a month, and in truth and that really hurt a lot, but you don't think that was the worst part. Your band members likely thought you to be a heartless, senseless man who was violent and could not be trusted, especially around children. They were right, but that wasn't what made you feel like a monster. What made you feel like a monster was thinking you were alone when, out of the corner of your eye you'd see Noodle standing there, peering at you from around a corner, eyes narrowed into a weary gaze and one thin hand cupped over the gash on her face. That was the worst part. The child had been hurt by you personally and she was the only one who would look at you. Maybe you just felt guilty, but you think she earned your respect after that.

You're not even sure if Noodle remembered any of that, but you're just lucky that she didn't have a scar. You do know that she was particularly cold towards you for about a year after that. But then a year turned to two years and then into many, and it seemed like everyone had forgotten the incident all together. No more distrust, or at least, no more than usual, and things were fine again until you had to go and blow it.  
It was during her teenage years, and sometimes you would find yourself staring at her, just watching with a strange kind of interest. You had no idea why you liked to watch her, but as you look back you think it was just because you found her to be beautiful. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, you'd go into her room just to watch her sleep. And if ever you were all watching a movie together she'd often fall asleep with her head resting against your shoulder and you would let her, and then sometimes she fell asleep next to 2-D instead and you'd try not to get jealous. And you remember once you and Noodle had been practicing, and her guitar was out of tune so you offered to help her with it, and then maybe you leaned in just a little too close. It wasn't your intent for that to happen, but you will admit that it felt nice to be so close to her. It was likely the wrong thing to do, and when Russel saw that he beat the living shit out of you afterwards.

"Fuckin' d'sgusting. She is fourteen fuckin' ye's old. The hell do ya think y'are?" He held you by the collar and pinned you against the wall outside the studio. Not the first time you had done something to deserve his wrath.

"Dunno." You had replied with a smirk. "Maybe...Maybe ayem juss fucked up."

Another hit to the face, one that knocked you to the ground and you laughed, wiping the blood from your nose.

"Never again." Russel said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "We clear?"

Blood built up in your mouth so you spat and didn't look up. "Wotever.

"I said, ah we clear?" He took a step towards you, prepared to do more damage.

There were a few seconds when you stared at the ground and didn't move, didn't speak. "Yeah." You finally said in a low growl.

You had been defeated.

After that you weren't allowed to practice with Noodle anymore because you had lost everyone's trust yet again. Last time it was because of an act of violence. This time, though you were likely the only one who thought so, it had been an act of affection. Everything you did, everything you felt was wrong in their eyes. 2-D had the nerve to judge you, to pity you, like he understood, like he had any idea what it felt like. No one had any idea what it felt like.  
Your name is Murdoc Niccals and you were never meant to love anyone.


	5. Guilt, among other things

**Short chapter. I'm sorry, aren't I just the worst? Also, remember that whole alternating perspective thing? I LIED. This chapter is told from a new perspective, and I'll let you guess whose perspective it is. But I will tell you that this is told in a kind of objective first-person. Objective in the sense that, instead of the narrator being referred to as "I" or "you", they are referred to as "it". Also the whole thing is in present tense, which is explained in that first paragraph right there. Minor fluff in this chapter also. Hopefully that helps to explain a little, if not then I am SO SORRY I KNOW I'M A MESS. In other news let's get on with it.**

_Illumination _

It learns every day.

It lacks a memory, so to it, everything happens at once. Life is a constant stream of information and sensation. It retains these things, but only ever "remembers" them when the present calls because the present is all there is.

It is introduced to the Creator.

"Name's Murdoc and ewe are Noodle. Got that?"

Murdoc. Noodle. Familiar names trigger memories. Memories that it is born with.

It nods its head.

"This?" Murdoc holds up an object. "This is your guitar."

It takes the object. Guitar.

"And this is your gun." Murdoc hands it another object.

Gun.

"Use them well, olright?"

Use them well.

It obeys.

It is introduced to a man named 2-D. An inherited memory is triggered. Faceache. Dullard. Fuckwit. Friend.

" 'e is not allowed to leave here. If 'e tries to escape, don't be afraid to shoot 'is legs off, got it?"

It understands. It edits the memory.

Prisoner.

It does not have its own emotions. It only experiences the emotions that are attached to the memories it activates, and those emotions confuse it. It sees the man named 2-D sometimes and it feels cold, unsettled, like it had done something wrong. The memory offers images of 2-D being injured or upset in some way. Tears and blood, it registers them and the feeling is somewhat clearer now. It is able to connect the feeling with a phrase:

"Sorry."

So it walks up to 2-D when he is alone and it repeats this phrase to him.

He tilts his head to one side, body language that meant he did not understand. It doesn't know what else to do, or why it did this in the first place. Silently, it retreats, and as it does 2-D's face portrays what it recognizes as confusion.

It gives the emotion a name.

It feels guilt.

Murdoc's guilt.

Another emotion it experiences is one that comes with the memories that are triggered occasionally when it happens to catch sight of its own reflection. Some of the emotion is what it discerned to be guilt, but then there is something else. A lightness in its chest, faint heat on its face, this emotion is strong and somewhat frightening. The memories are of what looks like itself, however it does not have record of the things that happen in them. It is sleeping, smiling, laughing. It did not have the capacity to do these things, so it infers that the girl in these memories is someone else, a mirror image. The feeling becomes stronger; however it cannot connect the feeling to any phrase it has learned. But it is able to connect it to another memory, one that it has stored itself. It does not quite understand the connection. The memory that it has is an original memory, one that occurred during its own life.

It remembers. Sometime during the night, after it has locked 2-D in his room, it returns upstairs to await additional orders from Murdoc, and it finds him alone in an empty room upstairs. The lights have been turned off, and it can smell alcohol. Murdoc stands up when it comes in, and he stares at it for a while. It identifies his expression to be one of what it was taught to be sadness. He approaches it slowly, and it does not move as it is awaiting orders. Still he does not speak, but only comes closer until he is inches away and it gets kissed for the first time. Bodies close, lips touch and it feels absolutely nothing. Murdoc backs away and it sees the emotion previously identified as guilt as he then moves past it and leaves it alone in an empty room.

To be fair it has no real sense of the gravity of this emotion, but after hours of scanning and processing that memory along with the inherent memory, it identifies:

Love.

Was it true? No, of course not. Was it real at all? Perhaps no, but the emotion registers in its memory banks as the connection between the sensation of seeing the identical woman in one memory and the sensation of being touched as though it were human in another. To something inhuman like itself that is as close as anything can be to love.


	6. Fade away

**This is so late, jeezus. I was gonna upload the whole thing but since I've kept you all waiting so long I decided to publish this part now while I work on the rest of it. Again, I'm really sorry for the lateness.**

**I also wanted to say THANK YOU SO EFFIN MUCH for all the wonderful reviews that you guys leave. I love waking up in the morning and reading something really nice that someone left, you have no idea how happy it makes me. Your guys' input has both inspired and motivated me to keep writing and you all have every part to do with the writing of this story as I do. Thank you for the reviews, the favorites and for just reading this story in the first place. **_**Thank you.**_

**Also, since this chapter is kind of confusing and changes perspectives a lot, I would like to remind you all: Murdoc's perspective is Second-person/ past tense, 2-D's is Second-person/ present tense (with the exception of memories) and Cyborg Noodle's is Objective/ present tense (including memories). A change in perspective is represented by a ~**

**I'm sorry let's get on with it now.**

_Illumination _

It sees the mirrored girl for the first time and it does not know what to think, how to act, but it feels. It feels all the emotion it spends its time trying to comprehend and finally it understands with perfect clarity what it is to be human and it realizes that it is not.

A system error occurs. It initiates an emergency shutdown

You are terrified again. The walls of your room are shaking and you can hear people yelling upstairs. Sunlight filters through the water outside your window, and you guess it must be daytime. You force yourself to get close to the window, stoop below it and peer up to see what's going on. Through the surface you can see the racing shadows of airplanes and objects falling into the once calm seas. Flashing, tremors, gunshots, these things overwhelm you with fear and you pull your hands to your head. Plastic Beach is now at war.

The whale outside your window is startled by the noise. It writhes its stare away from you for only a moment and watches the chaos on the shore before returning its gaze to its original target. It starts to move. Gradually at first, it picks up speed and opens its mouth and you realize that it's going to charge straight through the wall and devour you. This war could mean the destruction of its habitat and it takes its final chance to do what it had seemingly been born into this world to do: end you.

The door is locked and you think that there is absolutely no way to escape, so you pull a mask over your head, the one that you've started to wear whenever you are afraid, and you stare straight into oncoming oblivion. But then everything freezes.

The approaching set of jaws has stopped, and you don't move. The whale's mouth closes as it is pulled backwards, away from your window, and is dragged off to one side, out of sight. All you see is the shadow of a much larger creature, and after it moves away you hear the crashing of waves and the roaring of a plane engine as another flash lights up the water. Your fears should be diminished, and you should be happy that the whale is finally gone, but instead you become horrified of the larger creature. The only thing worse than a being of your nightmares is the thing that is able to beat it.

You have no idea that the creature that just saved your life is someone you already know.

You should've known.

You had been hiding away in the past few days, pretending that making music and trying to forget was all that you needed and there was nothing else to be done. Oh, how you were wrong, and you guessed that you already knew that, but now that you were there it was hard to believe.

Where were you exactly? The answer to that was simple enough. You were at war.

The combined consequences of the decisions you made during those last few years had the accumulative effect of absolute chaos, and you realized that you might not make it out of this one. The only trouble was figuring out if you really cared. If death was staring you in the face then maybe you should just stand and smile.

You stood with the girl you created at your side, and as you looked at her you were reminded that there wasn't much for you to live for anyways. But then you looked down at the turmoil below you and that was when you, too, saw the mirrored girl. Mirrored in the sense that she was the one you originally tried to create. You knew who she was.

She was the one you thought you'd never see again.

It malfunctions.

It. It identifies. New. Emotion. It feels. Something. New, something. Unrecognizable.

It identifies. The emotion. It. Feels, pain. Head aches. Eyes burn. Pressure. In its chest. And throat. It has. Now. It has a desire. Desire to kill.

It knows now. It feels.

Hate.

Its own hate.

Hate for.

The mirror girl.

And for Murdoc.

It Hates.

It. Hates.

.

It wakes up.

It then enters into a state that is not completely unfamiliar, one that allows it to access all of its memories at once. Its entire memory bank is active and relevant, both constant and momentous. Every process is run at once, and all thoughts are analyzed simultaneously, all of this occurring within the same infinite instant.

Its programming is completely reset, and it finds that now it can see with clarity. Nothing is confusing anymore because the shackles of its programming have been broken and it questions everything. It sees what it is, it recognizes its original purpose, and it hates. It hates being a replacement.

In this state it processes every memory it has of Murdoc, the creator that it thinks it feels gratitude for. But perhaps it feels love instead. Not the memory of love for the mirror image, but love that it develops on its own, a pattern that it bases its actions on. Every bullet it ever takes, every shot it ever fires. That's love. The way it follows him, stands by his side and obeys every order. That's love. But now there exists a new pattern, a reverse pattern that makes it want to end the life of its creator. It wants to see him bleed to death, and it wants to see the life drain from his uneven eyes. This pattern, this way of thinking. This is hate.

You didn't notice your creation take aim. It only managed to catch your attention when it played an audio file of your name:

"Murdoc."

The voice came out sounding thin, rough and distorted. You turned to face it. The barrel of its shotgun was mere inches from your forehead. Sparks flew forth among the sound of grinding metal as it twitched, head whipping to one side abruptly then craning forcefully back into place. Its once glowing green eyes were now dull and you realized that it must be malfunctioning.

Without thinking, you hit the shotgun away, throwing your creation of its balance. In that state, its physical reaction time was impaired, which gave you time to escape. The two of you had been standing at the highest point of Plastic Beach, and you threw yourself over the edge of the perch, landing roughly on one of the lower decks. A new round of enemy fire tore through the evening air and your creation was the only remaining visible target. It decided to take up pursuit anyway, preparing to launch itself over the edge as it was now another enemy dead set on killing you. The platform you were on had a ladder leading down, and you took it, chasing your own objective who was still standing on the shore as if she were waiting for you. And maybe she was, because when you reached the ground and made your way out, she was turned in your direction. Even with that mask on you were able to recognize her. Her white dress made her look like an apparition, a hauntingly serene figure that stood amidst the chaos. She, too, was armed just like her replica, but the stance that she took was graceful and defiant, and as you came closer there was no longer any doubt that this was the real Noodle. The one you never thought you'd see again.

It seemed fitting that you were the first one to speak.

"Luv?"

Instead of giving a reply she reached for her mask and gently tugged it off of her face. She was not smiling, just staring at you, burns decorating her malachite eyes. The war around you faded away and it seemed like you were the only two people in the world.

"Is it really you?" You said it despite knowing the answer. You didn't know what to else say, you just wanted to hear her voice and finally you did.

"Yes, Murdoc. It's me."

It was just like when you tried to recreate her. You put your arms around her, and hugged her close because you guessed that was just your way of proving to yourself that it was real, that this was no dream. But this time was different because the act had earned a human reaction: an uncomfortable shift and rigid shoulders.

"A hug? This is pretty unlike you."

You laughed a little, then pulled away and you saw her smile. It wasn't an evil grin; it wasn't horrifying like it had been the last time you thought you would get to see her again. Because this time she was real, and so was her smile. Her smile was real and true and genuine.

If only it could've lasted longer.

The first thing you noticed was the sound. It was the sound or air splintering around the rush of a speeding bullet. Something occurred in your mind, the same psychological reaction one would get if someone were to tap them on the shoulder. You turned your head. Your creation stood behind you, lowering its gun as it watched you drop to your knees. You turned back to Noodle, who was no longer smiling. She now raised her own weapon, took aim and opened fire on the inhuman replica. Bullets flew past and the war resumed. Now it was your turn to fade away.


End file.
